The doctor had never had a polygraph test before. Mackland was interested in the technology behind it, which was similar to an electrocardiograph. The device measuring his heart rate was slightly larger than a bulky suitcase, metallic with knobs. At the base were four markers that would draw on threaded paper.

There were three people other than him in the room. A polygraph specialist plus the two FBI agents as requested. As they were setting him up for the baseline test by asking him demographic data, the specialist (who did not bother to introduce himself) mentioned off handedly, "your heart rate is higher than normal at baseline. Do you have any heart conditions?"

Mac asked if he could see the tracing, thinking it was like an ECG, but once he examined it, he realized that it was not medical grade. The scientific part of his mind wanted to run a comparison the next time that he had the chance. "I have a bad headache and I suppose that I am irritated that I am not taken at my word. You have access to my public records. I was a neurosurgeon. Other than a speeding ticket, there are no marks against me. I shouldn't have to jump through all of these hoops to be considered trustworthy."

"Again, Dr. Ames, we thank you for your willingness to assist us." Agent Thomas was quick to reassure. Mac imagined that none of them would like it if he stopped the test and walked out per his rights.

The specialist took control of the room, reciting a paragraph for legal reasons prior to starting the test. He was to answer only yes and no.

"Have you ever abducted another person?"

"No."

"Have you ever endangered a child?"

"No."

"Have you ever molested a child?"

"No."

"Have you ever been accused of assault?"

"No."

"Are you a psychic?"

"Yes."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Did you attack Luiz Hernandez?

"No."

"Did you imprison Luiz Hernandez?"

"No."

"Did you find Luiz Hernandez through criminal means?"

"No."

"Did you find Luiz Hernandez using psychometry?"

"Yes."

"Before this evening, had you ever met Luiz Hernandez?"

"No."

"Is your intention to discredit the Federal Bureau of Investigation?"

"No."

"Is it your intention to embarrass the Federal Bureau of Investigations?"

"No."

"Thank you, this test is now completed." The man spoke robotically, taking notes on the paper, then getting up to unhook Mac from the leads.

"How long will it take for you to read it and determine results?" Mac queried, tired.

"It shouldn't take me too long, Dr. Ames. I will discuss the results with the agents, and they'll report the results to you shortly." The man seemed cordial after the test was completed, most likely because he knew that he was being truthful during the polygraph. "You can stay here. I'll bring you some water."

With that, the man motioned for the agents to follow him out. Mac scratched at the adhesive left behind, his body was aching and sore. His mind was exhausted and pained. Glancing at the clock, they had been at this for nearly six hours. He had performed a craniotomy and tumor removal in less time.

Water was indeed brought to him a minute later, the coolness refreshing after speaking for so very long without it. He pressed the glass to his forehead, enjoying the momentary relief it offered.

The two agents walked in, their body language open and relaxed. "Dr. Ames, you've passed the polygraph, but you already knew that. Thank you for your truthfulness tonight. We've also received a report that Luiz Hernandez has woken and provided the police officers the names of his assailants. It seems that the Sheriff was right. He was attacked by a group of his classmates."

Mac was relieved that he was finally believed. "That's great. I pray that Luiz gets justice for the crime committed against him. How's he doing?"

Agent Thomas gave him a slight smile, "They say he'll recover without any permanent damage. Thank you, Dr. Ames, for finding him. I'm sure the family will be forever grateful to you. We'll help you out. You're free to go. Your friend, Jim Murphy is in the waiting area."

The two agents shook his hand. Agent Ward had a somewhat stunned expression on his face but offered his apologies before walking away. Mackland wheeled himself to waiting room, following the arrows along the walls.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Mac was engulfed in a hug. Jim was crouching low to meet his eyes after releasing him, "Are you alright, Mackland?"

"Yes, thank you for asking Jim. I will say I am ready for bed now. Please forgive me if I'm not as talkative tonight." Mac declared tiredly, rubbing his head.

Jim stepped back and waved over someone who had been sitting beside him. "I hope you won't mind, Mackland, I had called for back-up since you were being held for longer than expected. This is my good friend, Dr. Griffin Porter." Mackland lifted his head dazedly to meet the warm brown eyes of the dark-skinned man who was smiling at him. "Griffin, this is Dr. Mackland Ames. I think you'll find that you have much in common."

Mac shook the man's hand, a ghost of a smile on his face. He certainly was not in the mood for company, though he was the guest in Jim's home and Jim had the right to invite whomever he wished. "It's nice to meet you," Mac murmured, trying to sound upbeat.

Dr. Porter held his hand for a moment too long, so Mac pulled away. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Dr. Ames. Jim has told me so much about you."

"Hopefully, all good." Mac was itching to leave and prodded the two men as propriety allowed. "Do you need to speak to the officers or are we all free to leave now?"

Jim smiled knowingly, "We don't need anything. Let me push the chair to the van. We've parked it in front of the station. Griffin and I will help you into the van." Jim took hold of the handles behind him, so Mac let go of the wheel grips to allow him to push the chair towards the front door. Dr. Porter held the doors open and moved obstacles in their path until they were finally by the van.

The two men opened the doors. Mac dropped the brakes so that he could step up to his seat. His legs were trembling and he could barely keep from falling back into the seat. Griffin stepped up in front of him and gripped his shoulders. "Dr. Ames, I think this would be safer if Jim and I assisted you."

Jim moved towards his back, while Porter stood in front of him, using patient positioning techniques to help him stand. Once he was standing, the two men lifted him as he stepped up the riser to the passenger seat. As soon as he was sitting, Griffin swung his legs to the floorboards and dropped the armrest. Jim had gotten into the driver seat and reached for the seatbelt catch that Griffin pulled over Mac's chest and lap to press into the buckle.

For a while, things were dim and faded. There was the sensation that he was in a moving vehicle. He could see the lights of the lampposts flickering as the van drove past, even with his eyes closed. The two men were talking softly, their tones friendly as if they had known each other for years. He did not listen in but took comfort in their whispers.

It did not take long in the night to get back to the farm, no traffic to slow them down. The pebbles in the driveway being crushed against the rubber tires of the van made it clear they were at the farmhouse from sound alone. He wanted so very much to get out and crawl into bed, but he could not gather the energy.

He felt hands pressing against his neck, taking his pulse. There were whispers in which he could only catch every other word. "Semiconscious, tachycardic, pain-response, possible migraine, stretcher".

There was a sudden feeling of vertigo that made him cry out. Jim gentled him. "You're alright, Mackland. We have you."

The world swirled in and out until he was lying on a soft mattress. He could feel his shoes being pulled off, hearing them thud to the ground. Something squeezed his forearm, but it only lasted for a few seconds, so it did not disrupt the sudden calm he felt. He felt hands in his hair, his head being cupped gently before the pain melted away. "Finally," he thought, "now, I can sleep."